


in our past lives

by hadrons_collide



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, F/M, Identity Issues, Memory Alteration, Post-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-08
Packaged: 2018-01-18 14:41:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1432237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hadrons_collide/pseuds/hadrons_collide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Winter Soldier corners Natasha on her morning coffee run, she doesn't question how he found her. That's what he's trained for, what they're both trained for- finding your target without your target finding you.</p>
<p>What she does question, though, is why he isn't shooting at her this time.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Natasha helps Bucky remember his past (their past)</p>
            </blockquote>





	in our past lives

**Author's Note:**

> This is somewhat of an attempt on my part to reconcile the movie and comics. I absolutely LOVE their relationship in the comics and so far it seems like the movies are trying to not make it happen so WHATEVER I'll just write fic about it.
> 
> This took a turn from where I wanted it to really go but I'd gone too far to just delete it. And it's my first Marvel fic so whatever.
> 
> Title from Kesha's "Past Lives" which is 100% the most Natasha x Bucky song to ever exist- it came on on the way to the movie, right after I'd finished Black Widow Hunt, and my emotions went through the roof.

When the Winter Soldier corners Natasha on her morning coffee run, she doesn't question how he found her. That's what he's trained for, what they're both trained for- finding your target without your target finding you.

What she does question, though, is why he isn't shooting at her this time.

"I feel like I can talk to you," he admits. Natasha watches him wiggle the fingers of his cybernetic arm the way he always used to when he was nervous, and she decides to hear him out despite the fact that he put a bullet in her - twice. Because maybe, just maybe, the brainwashing is starting to fade.

She orders for him without asking because even if he doesn't remember, she does- remembers so many cups of coffee while curled up in bed on cold Russian mornings.

"How did you know?" he asks. "I can barely remember what kind of coffee I like."

Natasha shakes her head because she knows she can't tell him, knows you can't just give someone their memories back. "You have to remember on your own."

He rolls his eyes and frowns. "And what if I can't?"

She wants to reach for him, wants to touch him and tell him everything's going to be okay, but she's not sure how he'd react to that just yet. So Natasha flexes her fingers around her cup and says calmly, "You can, James, because I did."

Natasha watches him react to his own name, watches him process it, watches him mouth it and whisper it and taste it on his tongue. She wonders how long it's been since he's heard it.

"Your friend... called me Bucky," he says finally.

"That's how he knew you, like a nickname" she says slowly. "Your name is James Buchanan Barnes."

He nods, taking it all in. "And you called me James," he says, more to himself than anything, but Natasha responds anyways.

"I did, yes."

He looks up at her and almost smiles. "Then James it is."

 

James ends up meeting Natasha there every couple of days- there was never a real arrangement, but she starts shifting her schedule slightly so she has time to chat if he's there. James tells her all the new bits he's remembering- even little things like his favorite color (blue) or favorite flavor of ice cream (mint chocolate chip).

He wants to know more about Natasha, too, and that's harder to tread. She steers clear of anything about the Red Room and focuses more on her time with SHIELD - since that's all out in the open now, she figures why not? She can tell it fascinates James, especially on their third meeting when she tells him about New York.

"No fucking way are there aliens," he says with a laugh. "I get soldiers and super spies and guys with metal suits and I guess mutants I can get. But actual aliens invading New York City? Get outta here."

Natasha chuckles and mutters to herself softly in Russian and it's like a switch clicks in James' head. His eyes light up in recognition of the words and he just stares at her for a moment.

"Natalia?" he whispers.

Her breath catches in her throat and she nods, unable to form words.

 

His memories start coming back quicker after that- James shows up at the coffee shop every day to tell Natasha all the new things he remembers. 

He spent one whole morning describing the coffee shop her in Russian, just because he remembered he could speak it. The wallpaper, the barista, the layout of the shop, everything about it. Natasha listens with a smile on her face, listens as James becomes more and more of the man she remembered him to be, all those years ago.

 

 

"I remember Venice," he says one morning as way of greeting as she hands him his coffee.

Natasha eyes him, trying not to let her face reveal anything about what had actually happened. "What about it?"

"We went to a party...a wedding, at this really nice house on the water. You wore dark green- you looked beautiful. We laughed and danced and drank wine." His eyes darken and his voice drops. "And we killed four unarmed men and their wives, including the bride and groom."

"James..." She reaches for him but he pulls away in disgust.

"We killed so many people, Natalia. I'm remembering them all. Everything is just you and me, guns at our hips and blood on our hands."

"That's all we were," she admits. "We were KGB assassins, killing people was basically our job description."

"But why?" he asks harshly, louder than before. "Why did we murder all those people?"

A quick glance around the room assures Natasha nobody's staring, at least not yet. "Because it was our job. Because we were the best at it. We were - God, we still are - so good at killing." She's seen him in action- if anything, he's gotten even better at it. "But people told us to do these things, James. We didn't just decide on a whim that we were going on a killing spree. We had orders and we followed them."

"Like soldiers." 

His eyes are on her and she nods."Yes, like soldiers."

James laughs, cold and hollow. "Apparently I'm pretty damn good at being a soldier." He fishes something out of his coat pocket with his good hand and slams it on the table.

It's one of the pamphlets from the Captain America exhibit at the Smithsonian. It's worn and faded, like he's been carrying it around and stuffing it back into his pocket for a while now. The pamphlet promises pictures and details of the life of Bucky Barnes, Captain America's best friend. Natasha braces herself, because she knows James isn't going to react well.

"Funny thing about all this is, I don't remember any of it. World War Two, Nazis, Captain America... none of it. All I remember is you," he says, eyes narrowed at Natasha. "You and all the people we killed. For the Soviet Union." James prods the picture on the cover of him and Steve, laughing in uniform. "That's my face. That's your friend. So why the fuck don't I remember any of this?"

"The wipe the KGB first put on your mind when they found you, that's going to be stronger than whatever Hydra did when they got you," Natasha explains calmly. "The fact that you've already remembered so much is a good sign. It might not be tomorrow, it might not be next week, but I promise, James, you're going to remember it all eventually."

"Eventually," he says with a huff. "So until then I'm just going to keep remembering all the stuff I probably don't want to remember?"

"It wasn't all bad," Natasha replies, hurt. "We had each other. I... I loved you."

"So you say." He gets up to leave, coffee still half full, but turns on his heel. "And you know what the worst part about all this is? I had a good life once, supposedly. Friends, a non-assassin job... a best friend who literally went into the depths of a Nazi camp to save me." He shakes his head in disbelief. "And I don't remember one fucking bit of it. All I remember is you- you and all the people we killed."

She can't think of anything to say as he walks out the door.

 

Natasha buys Bucky's coffee and sets it across from her every morning for a week, but he never shows up.

 

She finds him, eventually, sitting at the back of the theatre in the Captain America exhibit.

"How'd you find me?" he asks with a knowing smile.

Natasha smirks back and settles in next to him, watching the film. She's never really paid attention to any of the footage she'd seen of James and Steve during the war, but Bucky looks good. She leans over to him and murmurs "you look handsome."

"How'd you think I knew it was me?" he murmurs back.

And it's so comforting, so like the James she used to know, that Natasha can't help but lace her fingers through his. He doesn't pull away, and it flashes through Natasha's mind that this might be the first actual intimate contact he's had since they last saw each other.

"I'm not going to apologize for yelling at you," he says. "I just... I just want to know who I am. It's so frustrating having all these chunks of your life missing-"

She squeezes his hand. "I know, James. And I'm going to help you, I promise."

"I know you will," he murmurs, squeezing back.


End file.
